


Love Song in C Major

by Dasmure



Category: Cookie Run (Video Game)
Genre: Cookie Run Secret Santa 2018, It's super Late so TY For your Patience...., M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 16:52:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17267822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dasmure/pseuds/Dasmure
Summary: PSA:This was written before Carrot Cookie was released. The OC Carrot cookie I have in this is not intended to be anything like canon Carrot Cookie, and any similarities are pure coincidence.





	Love Song in C Major

**Author's Note:**

> **PSA:** This was written before Carrot Cookie was released. The OC Carrot cookie I have in this is not intended to be anything like canon Carrot Cookie, and any similarities are pure coincidence.

While every segment of the cookie world tended to be rich with culture that was so vastly different from each other, one universal truth that held the lands together was that each and every Cookie was defined by their sense of fashion. And believe me, you’ll stand out more if you just try to be plain. You’ll always have a little something about yourself that makes you iconic, be it that scarf you wear so much, or those boots you take everywhere.

 

So while the cookie who made his way down the sidewalk might have _seemed_ like the famous Rockstar cookie at first glance, you knew you were just seeing things at a second; Rockstar never wore his hair up in ponytails, he never wore baseball caps or mouth masks, and never-- never would the great Rockstar settle for a boring, beige top that lacked any way to pop it’s collar!

 

(Thank the heavens it worked; because his speech was one thing he could not disguise.)

 

Oh, the pains of living a normal life… But, it’s either this, or having to take every crooked, twisted alleyway across the city and making yourself a mess just to get groceries. Sure, perhaps his lyrical content didn’t have standards, but Rockstar’s appearance, disguised or no, did. Not that he doesn’t love all his fans, they’re so wonderful, all of them, but even the limelight needs maintenance now and then.

 

“Do you think you can take us all down, criminal?!”

And from the sounds of that laugh, Rockstar would pin said criminal as being the infamous Chili Pepper Cookie-- one of the highest bounties in all of cookie history was on her head.

 

...the alleyway beside him seems to be the best way to go; best to not get robbed in the crossfires of that battle. Seems like others have the same idea, at least. And hey-- by the time he gets back, this whole thing will have blown over like she wasn’t even here in the first place.

 

Least this is one of the more scenic routes as far as dingey alleyways go; being a popular target of graffiti amongst the residents about the latest societal issues within the place. Even the ground isn’t. Coupled with the faintest hum of an instrument, that probably is just his imagination, (but you never know) it’s strangely beautiful in it’s own way.

 

Even as he walked along and the artwork faded from vibrant works to grey concrete, the hum persisted, and ok seriously, is he just hearing things, because what is…?

...

Turns out, Rockstar does, in fact, hear a sweet serenade from a violin. Now, street performers aren’t particularly an endangered species, with musicians being the most common version, but at this level of skill, from someone who knows how to incorporate their own soul into their instruments? Well, there’s no way he could ignore them, and he is already taking a detour.

 

The closer he gets to the violinist, their more Rockstar picks up on how skilled they truly were, but what sticks out the most? How they’re able to switch their keys with such fluidity that you really wouldn’t believe how jarring they’d be otherwise. He’s a fan of music before he’s a musician himself, so he can safely say that’s the first time he’s heard that done with such ease.

 

Which is probably it’s so painful how small the “crowd” (for want of a better term) is when Rockstar finally is able to get a good look at them. Sure, they’re not wearing the fanciest of clothes, they’re clearly worn with some of the edges tattered here and there, and their violin is far from the flashiest around, but does seem to be able to get the job done.

 

He gives a bow, and those around the violinist give their short applause. Yet, somehow, save for Rockstar cookie, they all disperse afterwards, as the musician sets his violin into its case, reaching into the other bag he has beside him to pull out a bottle. Not bothering to toss him money, or really, anything of the sort.

 

“‘Eyo,”

The violinist looks up at him, and it doesn’t escape Rockstar’s notice that he’s actually got a really cute face, and now that Rockstar can see up close; while it’s a smidge messy, his hair would look lovely if it got some preening done here and there. He also appears to be around his age as well, from what he can glean.

 

“I am taking a small break at the moment, so if you have any requests,” He gets the cap to twist off after the third time, ”I’m afraid it might have to wait.”

 

“Nah, I just came to talk more than anything,” Rockstar says, before adding, “You really know how rock out on that. You teach yourself?”

 

“Ah, thank you. And yes, I am self taught,” Quizzically, he raises a brow at that. “Any particular way you could tell?”

 

“To be honest, it’s ‘cause I’ve never heard about you before. If you had someone train you, you’d be a big deal, I can tell.”

 

That does earn Rockstar a chuckle and a smile from him. “Please, I’m just following my dreams, not trying to net myself all the fortune in the world.”

 

“No reason to sacrifice security for your dreams though, you feel?”

 

“Mmm,” He takes a drink of his water, ”True that.” And, yet, there’s an odd expression on the musicians face, as if he’s onto something that Rockstar isn’t. What, you deserve to be paid for all the fantastic work that you do, like it or not, and if you’re worried about having to write music, then y--

 

“Are you familiar with Rockstar cookie?”

 

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up one by one, feeling as if his cover was just a pane of glass.

 

“I... am, but I’m a fan of all kinds of musicians,” Technically, not a lie, “I’ll listen to anything, electronic, classical, rock; you name it,” Only a lie if you asked if he enjoyed said music, “I just lean towards music where the musician has an authentic instrument they can pour their soul into.”

 

“I see,” And after another swig of water, the violinist adds, ”You just sound like him is all.”

He gives a shrug, hoping it’s at least somewhat casual. “Get that a lot, s’not like dialects aren’t exclusive to one person though.”

 

Some of the good ol’ Rockstar magic seems to have done the trick, as the cookie seems to lose any suspicion. “I suppose so,” He twists on the cap once more, “He is quite the musician, no? He ended up inspiring me to take up music as a serious job instead of a hobby.”

 

If Rockstar was seriously looking for feedback, then perhaps he would talk with someone else at his record label about critique and what he could fix and work on, buuuuut this guy is already here, and clearly is has professional skills, soooo…

“Really now. What your favorite songs by him?”

 

The violinist furrows his brow, and frowns with a hum. “You’re… asking a lot of me with that, and it does change all the time,” Closing his eyes with a huff in contemplation for a few moments, before finally,

 

“Well, obviously Scarify,” A good choice, probably Rockstar’s most popular song, “Colors of the Wind is another favorite of mine, especially considering the difficulties of it getting made,” Finally-- a man who understands how difficult that was to make! “Do, and a bit of an unpopular choice, but I also enjoyed Emperor Road too. Feels rather experimental for him.”

 

Oh wow, someone liked that? Not even he liked it when writing it, it only exists cause he just needed some filler space so it didn’t get relegated to an EP because somehow even combining all of his singles wasn’t long enough by the studio’s standards. Huh. Guess every song has it’s fans.

 

“Of course, I enjoy about all of his works, but those are the first that come to mind.”

Rockstar just gives a noise of approval. “I feel ya. Some musicians, even if they don’t know it, are just able to write out hit after hit after hit.”

 

The two share some pleasant silence between each other for a few moments, wondering how or if to continue the conversation, before the street performer speaks up, after setting his water aside.

 

“Well, I don’t mean to shoo you away, but I believe that I must get back to my performances.”

 

“That’s chill. Might as well mosey about my business myself.” Rockstar jams one hand into his pocket, fishing about for some money on him, and not measly loose change kind of money, “But before I skedaddle, real quick,”

The musician shoots Rockstar a curious glance while he works to ready his violin.

 

“Could I get your name?”

“Oh, I never said it, did I? I’m Mint Choco.”

“And, you’ll be here tomorrow, yeah?”

“So long as the sun shines, I’m here.”

 

All Rockstar could readily fish up was physical cash set aside for emergencies. But, ah well, not like he doesn’t have the rest of his bank account to fall back upon. Besides, the guy’s clearly pouring his soul into every note, and that’s so much better than that electronic garbage that gets spat out these days. Musicians gotta have each others backs in these times!

 

“I’ll keep an eye out for ya if I come this way again,” Rockstar doesn’t catch the violinist’s expression as he pockets out the coins to him, but the sound of the pouches landing in the violin case was all he needed to hear.

“Rock on, kiddo.”

 

And thus, Rockstar once more was back on his original quest of obtaining his weekly supply of food. Sure, that was the main preoccupant of his mind past that, then the rain when it began to pour down, but in the back of his mind, he kept thinking to himself about that musician.

 

Mint Choco, huh...

\--

 

The weather was far from kind to him in the evening; a harsh downpour thundering down upon the whole city was a sign as any for him to pack it up and call it a day. Even now, sitting in his run down apartment, the rain showed no sign of stopping, probably willing to drag it’s point against clear skies into next day, should it feel everyone so desired.

 

But looking over the money he’d gotten today, Mint Choco wouldn’t need the kindness of the weather, or anyone's kindness for a solid six months at least.

 

All he had known as far as money went in his life, was barely being able to scrape by with what you had just so you’d be able to keep a roof over your head and water running. Which would mean going days, weeks at times without food, without being able to dress decently, because that’s just a necessary sacrifice to keep what bare minimum you had with you. Otherwise, you’d have nothing else other than what your hands could hold and what was on your back.

 

So, to have 300,000 coins sitting in front of him?

Mint Choco was struggling to even consider what he’d start to do with that money.

Especially when said money was gained by playing what most of society deemed an “outdated” instrument, now that genres like rock and electronic were here. (Which was a good chunk of the reason he’d been rejected from label after label and has completely given up on that.)

 

Other than stare at it on his bed, of course, half wondering if he was going to wake up because there was no way that this much money would’ve ever come his way. Sure, it was a one time payment, and that well would run dry with time, but still. There’s a lot one could do with 300,000 coins.

 

Going to sleep, Mint Choco Figures it would probably be the last good thing to come his way for awhile.

 

Boy are there times when it’s great to be wrong.

 

Come about a week later, and a curious figure comes to watch his performance.

 

Someone with a light orange shirt and brown pants held up with light green suspenders that was the same shade of her short, but well kept hair, parted out of their eyes with a clip adorned with a carrot decoration. Cute, but unremarkable on it’s own. But, what is remarkable is how she stays for a good chunk of his performances, unlike the majority who stay for a fraction of one, clap if it ends, and maybe (but usually not) throw some change they won’t miss his way.

 

“‘Cuze me sir,” She says to him during one of his breaks, “Do you happen to be Minit Choco?”

 

“I... am, in fact.” He says cautiously.

 

“Oh, lovely! Figured it was you, considerin’ you matched the description perfectly. Jus’ wanted to make sure.”

 

Against his morbid sense of curiosity, he chooses not to ask what that description is, because it’s probably far from the most flattering of descriptions.

“‘Nyanyways, call me Carrot Cookie darlin’! Heard ‘bout ‘chu from a friend’s friend.” She says with vast aplomb.

 

“Oh, have you?” Not much guessing needs to take place for him to figure out who that friend’s friend happens to be. Who he still needs the name of, and wants.

 

“Yep. I’ll keep it brief with ya, sense I wouldn’t wanna keep ya from yer work.” She reaches into her pocket, and in one swift movement, she thrusts a business card in front of him.

 

“Can’t speak for us everybody, but I bargin’ the majority of us would be thrilled if you swung by whenever ya get a spare day. And between you and I,” She leans toward him, and adds in a hushed tone, “We’re a high society kinda label. Pretty picky ‘bout who joins us. And not to getcha hopes up, but I think you got what it takes to make the cut.”

 

“Well then!” She says, and she pulls her body back before she starts to walk off, “Take care darlin’!”

 

Only later does he check the writing that’s on the card, because at the end of the day, he’s just thankful there’s some people that’ll be willing to hear out his performing abilities. He’ll at least be able to thank her at least, and maybe-- just maybe there’s no need for him to scrape by anymore! Mint Choco glances at the card once more.

 

CLAIRVOYIC SOUNDS

(XXX) XXX-XXXX

Sugarside Crossing, Cookie City, XXXXX

 

Alright, just got to write this down along with the d--

...

Wait.

Waaaaaaaaaitwaitwaitwait.

He checks again and no, he is not, in fact, seeing things.

…

Oh

Sweet

Jelly.

 

Clairvoyic Sounds?! The record label that’s super hard to get into, and is notable for being requested to time and time again serve families with some of the highest prestige in Cookie kind?! The very Clairvoyic Sounds that had some of the most talented heads in music right now?!

 

Suddenly, this added ingredient changed what was just excitement healthily bubbling in his chest is quickly turned into anxiety of the worst kind, and it’s almost worse that he’s not, in fact, seeing things. Does he even look the part to go there? Ok, maybe that’s irrelevant considering they do tend to crossover a lot with other artists, and casual concerts are never out of the question, but still...

 

The anxiety only gets worse as the date he set aside gets closer, until it’s finally upon him. And doing the most menial of things, like opening the place’s door is almost a hurdle in and of itself.  The quaint interior is at least enough to relax him a smidge.

 

There’s three others he sees in the place. First, there’s Carrot Cookie, who he at least knows is on his side. Then, there’s a figure who, while managing to keep themselves looking nice, still is clearly gruff around the edges, perhaps from being baked too long. There’s also Carol Cookie, who he doesn’t know personally, but knows enough about to assume she wouldn’t turn away from him.

 

“Can I help you?” The gruff one asks him, clearly offended by what was seemingly just loitering.

 

Alright, here we go.

 

“I’m Mint Choco Cookie,” Alright, first fourth done, now here’s the hard part, no going back, you’ve got this! “I was wondering if…” One more deep breath, for luck, ”If you would be interested in having me work under your record label.”

 

They give them a look for a few moments, before they head over to a cabinet, to pull out...

 

“...Might I know what those notebooks for?”

 

“Specially printed. We have a certain set of requirements one has to meet to keep our brand the way it is. Just head into the recording room-- down the stairs and take a left when you’re at the end of the hall.”

 

“Carol, Carrot! You mind helping me score him?” Their shout could be heard even from this distance.

 

“Not at all Salmon!” Carrot (Or at least he thinks it’s her) chirps in response.

 

Finally, they join him in the recording room, with sheets and “books” in hand, after what feels like an eternity.

 

“Most panic by now, but he’s holdin’ it aaalll together. We should consider him for that alone.” Carrot teases quietly, thinking he can’t hear that.

(Oh, don’t you worry Carrot! He’s panic aplenty, and just one tiny thing going wrong will have it all spilling out.)

 

The Crown of Shadows is ordinarily a piano piece, but you should be fine, they say as they hand him the music sheet. They say that, sure, but the three of them write down each and every thing about him on their notepads. Playing the song by the books isn’t enough to impress people, you need to add your own personal flair to it, but did he change it up enough for their liking?

 

When he’s finished, the notebooks found their way into Salmon Cookie’s hands, as they give each page a thorough examination.

 

“Do you have any qualms about my performance?” He asks after some silence, “I always seek to improve myself.”

  
Salmon raises an eyebrow from that, without hardly glancing at him; the notebooks were of much more importance, seeing as they got shuffled. “Qualms?”

 

And before others could say they were irrelevant, they let out a huff. “Biggest issue is how you changed parts of it without reason. A great skill to have in case you mess up, sure, but doing it as many times as you did can make you come off as either A; An ameteur who doesn’t know what they’re doing, or B; Someone who has zero respect for the original composition.” The notepads were shuffled again, “You also played it at a faster tempo than the original, but that seems to be more of a preference than anything.”

 

Well.

They certainly do not beat around the bush, do they.

 

“And… When can I expect to hear back from you?”

“...Right now, actually,” They say, finally looking up from the notepads.

 

Yep, he’s absolutely just messed up the one chance he had to try and actually start living a decent life. And there isn’t even a ‘Next time I’ll do better’ left; because it was this or keeping his same old life of the past five years of trying to scrap by. Not like he isn’t used to it at least, but it--

 

“Welcome aboard, Mint Choco. Glad to have you here.”

 

Carrot and Salmon go a bit more in depth about what he’ll be doing, and what they’ll provide for him. We’ll schedule you for these days, and you’ll do recording these days so we can get your debut album off the ground. It’s a tight schedule, sure, but he can make it work, especially when it pay enjoyably well. We’ll also supply you with some fancy work clothes too, they add, which is probably for their image more than anything.

 

“Could I ask you something before I leave?” Mint Choco says, before he heads out the door that night.

“Sure.”

“A bit random, but… Would you happen to know anybody with a black hat and face mask, with a messy white ponytail?”

“I... don’t. Sorry.”

\--

Hearing that a street musician you had a run in with ended up making it big over the course of a six months is one thing. Especially when you’re able to buy their CDs and realize how good they’ve gotten over such a short period of time. (Yet somehow, Rockstar is never able to catch him in their store… must be busy making music.)

 

And to know you’re both at the same concert? Which, somehow, is not as tonally dissonant as it sounds, and you’re also able to hear him preform, along with see him potentially? Well, no reason to not check up on him! Especially when he knows him to be one of his faithful fans. Sucks he can’t talk about their first meeting, but ah well, what can ya do?

 

That is, of course, assuming he can find him before he has to leave soon.

 

“Ah, would you happen to be Rockstar Cookie?”

 

Speak of the devil.

And smell of the devil too, considering how potent the refreshing smell of mint is in the room.

 

“Yep,” and he snaps his fingers in confidence at that as he whirls around to meet the violinist in question, “The one and only. I take it you’re that Mint Choco who’s hit the scene big time, yeah?”

 

Oh _sweet lord_ does he look almost nothing like he did in his street performing days! If it wasn’t for the mint in the room, Rockstar would’ve given an apology for getting the wrong person, seeing him dressed all fancy like that, and that old, trusty violin of his is nowhere to be seen; this new one that’s a light green.

 

Still, there’s just a little something about him that confirms to Rockstar he’s the same street performer from six months ago.

 

“I am, as a matter of fact.” He greets, and he holds his hand out to him, to which Rockstar gives a firm shake to, “It’s nice to meet you; I’ve always been quite the fan of yours.” And is the shine in his eye ever adorable.

 

“Oh are you now? You got any favorites of mine?” Rockstar asks; more as just an instinct than anything.

 

“Well, I admittedly have been listening to Reset After all, Fear Ya, The Time has Come, and I’m Picky a lot recently, so I’d say those for now. They are subject to change over time, however.”

 

So he wasn’t kidding about his favorites changing a lot, was he?

 

“I’ll keep that in mind! And as for you, I’m a pretty big fan of Later, Trivial Lie, and Across the Sky. but my absolute fave would be meteor.”

 

He laughs, seemingly in embarrassment, “Please, you have no obligation to do the same for me! But regardless, I give you my thanks.”

 

“C’mon, we aren’t gonna grow if we’re stingy with compliments! The buildup to the chorus in Meteor was really sick; you have some serious talent to pull that off! And you can only improve from here.”

 

“And you have my thanks once more; my performances are aimed to be completely flawless.”

 

_BZZT BZZT_

 

A phone is fished out from Mint Choco’s pocket, and he taps at the keyboard. Whater app he just opened up, interface looks really familiar to Rockstar, until it hits him;

“You use CommLink too?”

 

“Solely for work purposes.” Mint Choco half corrects, hardly looking up, “A tad annoying how one must make a username for it, but seeing as I had only received this phone for work purposes, I don’t... entirely mind.”

 

And mostly without thinking, Rockstar asks,

“Wanna to add me?”

 

Almost, he wants to punch himself in the face for saying that-- you’re two separate kinds of musicians, you’re both catering to two different sides of society, you’re both technically just met, you--

“Of course; it would be wonderful to keep in touch with you.”

 

“Rockstar! We be leaving in a couple minutes!” A fellow musician calls-- who definitely has to be Passionfruit.

 

“I’m on it, just gimmie a sec!” Y’know, it’d be nice if he was able to talk to someone without something needing to pry his attention away every five seconds, “Here, lemme just…” He grabs a sheet of paper from his pocket that’s as blank as it’s gonna get along with a pen, and scrawls his info onto it before handing it over to Mint Choco. And clearly, he seems intimidated by his display name. C’mon, dude, it looks cool and that’s all that matters!

 

“Just contact me there whenever ya get the chance.” Rockstar says, as he begins to run off, “See ya around, and rock on!”

“Ah, you too!”

\--

 _I’m hosting a party, and we’d all absolutely adore it if your dear violinist could perform for us,_ she would say, going through the motions every time, _I’ll be sure to cover all the expenses for him to come, so don’t you worry from things on that end_ . And occasionally, she’d add _And your darling lyricist can come as well if she’s interested_. Cheesecake Cookie she goes by. But is she ever lovely, just like her parties; she knows how to show only the most refined tastes in aesthetics, and even if Mint Choco had a choice if he would go or not, he would still undeniably answer yes.

 

Her reputation wasn’t one that escaped from the public’s eye either, even if getting to go to one of her parties was quite. And quite naturally; if you hang around those with copious amounts of fame, it’s collateral that you’ll join their ranks soon as well. Doubling with how far sometimes he’d have to go to attend Cheesecakes festivities? It’d only spread his influence farther across the world.

 

And the sorts of people he would meet along the way! There was Cocoa Cookie, the daughter of a highly esteemed business who absolutely adored seeing him and Carol; and you’d think they were family. Then there was Sparkling Cookie, who less remembered the identities of cookies around him; frankly all he needed to remember was how to whip up all those good drinks. And of course, there was always Cheesecake cookie; always showing people the sorts of lives they wish they could live.

 

And those were just the common faces alone; he’s seen any faces that have left quite the mark on him, just from their appearances. None who he knows the name of, but more and more do they seem to know who he is. A fallen warrior from the darkness

 

He could almost think, for a moment, he had always lived in this life of luxury.

 

Almost, because there were still a few things he held onto from his street life, such as his violin and his casual clothes… that was it; they were the only possessions he had, dear as they were. (He did have to move somewhere closer to Clairvoyic for work purposes, much as he would’ve kept his dainty old apartment too. Less time the public hounded him at least.)

 

And frankly? It’s odd to think about, especially how so many people know his name, what he does but not his story. Sure, Carrot and Salmon do tell him to remain quiet about his life and all that’s happened within it.

 

Someday, he decides, someday he’ll be able to share his exploits with others, and perhaps inspire them to follow their dreams.

\--

Talking with Mint Choco is pretty fun. Granted, is the violinist fairly busy? Of course he is, and Rockstar could hardly expect him to respond within the hour he sends a message, especially when his popularity grew a bit more by every single day. Still; if there was that rare day that had their breaks line up, they could get pretty chatty.

 

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: ya enjoying your job

Mint Choco: It’s alright!

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: wdym just alright

Mint Choco: Well, it can get rather taxing, considering how controlling it can be at times.

 

Ah, right. Carol had vented to him time and time again about how much of a pain it can be to work under them due to their work rhetoric. Still; it did pay well, so she said she was willing to put up with it.

 

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: my sis told me about that

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: sounds @!$#*^% annoying

Mint Choco: You have a sister?

 

Ah, right. You’re usually supposed to think before you say things.

 

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: ya uh keep this between the two of us but

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: me n carol are siblings

 

(Adopted, sure, but she’s the only sister he has.)

 

Mint Choco: Ah, ok! Makes sense considering how similar your songs content can be, haha.

Mint Choco: And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.

 

And as far as Rockstar knew, Mint Choco kept that promise rather well. Which was a relief, because if that was made public, that’d blow up in eighty different ways that neither of them wanted. Of course, there were others things he’d ask about here and there that probably would be absolutely, most notably;

 

Mint Choco: Quick question for you.

Mint Choco: Is there any particular why you tend to attend a lot of concerts DJ Cookie plays at? I thought you disliked them a lot.

Mint Choco: Because I do tend to see a lot of posters of concerts going on that have both of you playing at them, and I’m a bit unsure if at this point, it’s just a coincidence.

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: THERE IS 

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: i just do that to *!$^ them off

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: when your free you should do it too mc

Mint Choco: As much as I’m not a fan of their works either, I… don’t believe I’d be welcome there, haha.

Mint Choco: Also, MC?

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: gotta give ya a nickname someday

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: minty sounds too childish so

 

Moreso the first part than the end of it, but a signature Rockstar nickname? That’s special in it’s own right to everybody; even if others co-opt it, like they usually did, he was the first to give him that name.

 

Mint Choco: MC… I like it!

 

Something’s very special about ‘MC’ though.

Probably just one of the shortest ones he’s come up with yet.

\--

“You’re not in trouble darlin’, so relax!” Carrot says in her office, as Mint Choco takes a seat.

 

Though he’s become better at coating his nerves with steel than before he’d joined, where’d he’d just pray his poker face wouldn’t break, being told to ‘come here when you get a second’ and nothing else is enough to make anyone nervous, especially when if you’re not in trouble? Those very conversations that you won’t get in trouble for are the very ones that end you up in the worst situations.

 

“Might I ask what you need of me?” Mint Choco states, attempting to get as comfortable as he possibly can.

 

“Just gotta getcha in on the loop about somethin’ we forgot to tell ya ‘bout!” Carrot says, in a rather jovial manner, before muttering off what Mint Choco presumes is ‘‘n everytime I remembered to tell ya, you ain’t here...”,

 

“Look; I ain’t gonna bother to sugarcoat this whatsoever to ya; You’ve become a pretty big hit, much more than any of use expected, so more than ever we’re gonna need ya to avoid getting a girlfriend, boyfriend, or whatever down the road.”

 

...What?

 

“Ehm, why, exactly that is an issue?” Mint Choco presses, and he raises a brow at that. Must this aspect of his life be controlled by someone who is not him, solely for creating music?

 

She gives a hum and rests her cheek on her hand. “Ya just have this, image, we call it, to keep up,” Carrot explains. “And if you can’t maintain that, well, you’re not gonna last here too long. It’s something that’ll help people like ya better as a person, y’know? Gettin’ a lover takes away from that big time; we’d essentially hafta let ya go.”

 

That doesn’t seem to be like it would be too difficult to follow, considering that he’s not particularly interested in anyone at the moment, yet, regardless… what an utterly ridiculous demand one must follow!

 

“I… understand,” Well, he doesn’t entirely understand why this is something that must go into place, but he does seem to at least be able to follow it for now. Besides, that’s just one aspect of his life, one he can manage to hide quite well should worse comes to worse.

 

Carrots’ face perks up at that; bright enough that he swore it just hurt to look at her. “Great, great! Alrighty, you’re free to get back to your usual business. Take care darlin’!”

 

Those words feel to be nothing but a false formality.

\--

Having a sibling in the same industry as you had its perks. Granted, those perks really just small favors over time, like helping each other out with things that aren’t really the others cup of tea, showing upcoming concerts the other might be interested in, and occasionally they do try to collaborate (try being the keyword, because almost always things came up that they'd called that idea quits).

 

Mostly, though, they just ended up talking about “work stuff”, or what the public more lovingly refers to it as, “Sharing funny, cool, interesting and/or upsetting things that happen at work”. And it’s never been about work, it’s always been about the people at their workplaces.

 

Granted, Carol hardly ever talked horribly behind peoples back. And if she did,

 

melodicwinter: Did you know Mint Choco was a fan of your stuff? :? Just found that out today.

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: ya mc told me when we first met lol

melodicwinter: MC?

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: mint choco

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: easier to type

melodicwinter: Oh, ok! :D

melodicwinter: Think I might start using that myself for him. xD

melodicwinter: but he really doesn’t strike me for the type to enjoy your stuff is all.

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: tbf i dont think i strike you as someone whod enjoy his stuff but i do

melodicwinter: I mean you’re known as a rock star, not as someone who likes anything that isn’t electronic. x)

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: dont call me out like that LMAOOOOO

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: still

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: even people who arent into the classic stuff can appreciate his skill

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: so he deserves all the attention he gets tbh

\--

Getting to Clairvoyic was more of a hassle than it should have been. You would think, that such a short walk that was merely a few blocks away would be quite easy; too short to warrant driving such a distance, and. Look, it’s honestly not; but that’s not factoring in how much of a spectacle Mint Choco’s… _fans_ made it out to be.

 

Of course, the owner seemed to understand, and would threaten legal action against those who breached too far into the building (even more terrifying that they did a few times). Yet, doing his appearance at his place was mandatory, he was told, we’re not a beauty parlor, we’re a workplace so don’t waste your time with that crap here; and don’t bother with any disguises like you use for your daily life, because they’ll mess up your hair, and you have to look decent for autographs.

 

And so; you mix in being a rather famous person with being easily recognizable, and you have the recipe for a twenty minute walk turned into a forty minute walk. (And thank the lord he’s not the only person to live in the building, because the crowds sheer size he’s gleaned whenever he disguises himself is intimidating, put nicely. Imagine not being able to get a lick of privacy for that!)

 

“Worried you weren't gonna show up today,” Carrot teases him, once he finally gets himself into the recording studio.

 

“Perhaps I would have been much earlier, had I prepared myself here.” Mint Choco mentions, not so much as to be passive aggressive, but more of some wishful thinking, playful retaliation in its most insidious form.

 

“Mint Choco,” Salmon begins, as they proceed to flip through a notebook in their hands, “I’ve told you this one, I’ll tell you again: We’re a record label, and while we have a store on the top floor, it's not for selling beauty products.”

 

Did he truly come off so harsh? He didn’t think so… hardly felt deserving of whatever venom he got. Well, regardless,

“I, apologize.”

 

Come his break, and he does manage to find Carol around, because breaks are best spent with company after all.

 

“Is it normal what they do, Carol?” Mint Choco asks Carol.

 

She raises a brow at that. “Normal they do what, exactly?”

 

“You know, just…” He gives an exhale, “Having to deal with everyone under the sun knowing who you are, and effectively hounding you for that as such. And, I don’t mean to speak ill of our workplace either, but I feel as if I barely have any control over half of my life because of them. You’ve been here longer, so is all of this normal?”

 

She shakes her head, “Well, I've always dealt with that sort of thing, sure, but not as bad as you say it is. But not only am I not the most popular, but I’ve personally been able to mesh with what’s asked of me fairly easily.”

 

It’s not really a secret that he’s easily the most popular artist to work with Clairvoyic; assuming one even knew of the place when talking about him. Perhaps they are just a bit stricter with him; he does have a reputation to uphold, being the famous Mint Choco and all, much as the word fame leaves a foul taste in his mouth. Which would explain it, sure, but still...

 

She does give a smile, and adds, “I wouldn’t fret too much MC,” Oh, so now Carol knows about that nickname too? Well, the two are friends, so it’s fine, “I’m sure they’ll go easy on you after some time.”

 

He gives a sigh. “I truly hope so.”

\--

Some of the greatest tabloid around the world know one thing; the best way to catch a reader's eye is with anything to do with love. These two stars broke up, or Are these two stars in love? If there exists a front cover that doesn’t at least mention love to some degree, then Rockstar would easily have to assume you spoke of a fiction.

 

Not that he doesn’t understand why, of course. It’s a rather tantalizing subject, and something inherently so wonderful in life. Understanding, however, doesn’t mean he approves. That’s something private, ya don’t gotta sensationalize it like that! Just take those crush quizzes or whatever that are all online if you really have to get your fix.

 

… like he’s doing right now because he’s bored out of his mind. That, is something he is at least able to give an answer to. Unlike the fact he kept having MC in his mind while taking said quizzes. He tries to think of other artists in his mind, but it ends up looping back to the guy no matter what he does.

 

Must just be admiring his music as of late. It has definitely improved from both his street faring days, and from his first album release after all. Which turned into a less and less viable excuse the more he blamed… whatever his obsession with MC was with using him as the baseline for ‘Do I have a crush’ polls. Well, like, it’s not as if _all_ the results said he had a crush.

 

And what’s worse, it eventually evolves into that fluttering in his chest when he thinks of Mint Choco. Even if just for a moment, at someone mentioning his name, it’s far too strong a feeling to escape Rockstar’s notice… and he’s not sure if it should frustrate him, or he should embrace that feel-- No, no no he will not be doing that.

 

C’mon, crushing on anyone?

He’s gonna wait until he’s done with making music before considering that lovey dovey stuff.

\--

“MC!”

And now that nickname has spread to even his coworkers casually, something once reserved for friends. Ah well, at least he knows them, and they’re regulars in his life.

 

“Yes Salmon?”

 

They instantly hand some papers to him. “You’re going to have an interview tomorrow. They’ve given us the questions they plan to ask you, so we want you to go over them, and make sure your answers follow the guidelines.”

 

Guidelines? For an _interview_ of all things? “Why on earth do I need guidelines for an interview?” Mint Choco asks, attempting to avoid furrowing his brow. What’s even the point of one if all of the answers are going to be faked?

 

Salmon just shrugs, “Can’t have too much personal info about yourself to be made public.” They make their way back into their office, and add, “And check back with us before you’re done; your answers need the okay from us too.”

 

He gives these guidelines a scan over,

 

_Rule 4: Don’t speak about your past at all. People believe that you naturally came from a place of prestige, and that keeps our brand in tact so let’s keep it that way, alright?_

 

...Just deal with it like you always have. the money is worth it.

 

Mentally, he goes over the questions in his head, and how they want him to answer them. Most are just run of the mill questions he knew to expect, and then there’s the ones he’s got more vitriol towards he does he need to redo a few more times in his head;

 

 _Why did you choose Clairvoyic sounds?_ Simple, I felt like they were the ones who truly understand the sort of brand I try to push (What an utter lie). _Do you enjoy your work?_ Absolutely; my music and performances are tuned until they’re utterly flawless (And I would enjoy it more if I had control over my life). _Are you romantically interested in anyone at the moment?_ I’m not, but Rockstar Cookie is quite attractive and I--

…

What? Alright, try that again, the answer is ‘Not particularly, I’m trying to focus on my career at the moment’. Three times in his head he repeats that until he has it down.

 

Of course, he tells his answers to his producers, and thankfully, after getting their seal of approval, he does get the interview down without messing that one up.

 

Still, he does seem a bit hungover on what his first thought was about being asked about his relationship status.

 

...You know, now that he thinks about it, His original answer to that wasn’t _exactly_ too random.

\--

There’s actually one question that gets asked of him quite a lot whenever people interview Rockstar,

 

_“Hey Rockstar, have you ever considered writing a love song?”_

 

Maybe it ends up getting worded differently. Would you write one? Could you write one? Will you? But every time he just needs to say the same exact thing to them: ‘Sorry, I’ve no plans for that currently.’ Besides, didn’t every other artist under the sun have that covered to an extent? He hardly needed to take a piece of that cake to rock out.

 

To think, there would ever be a time he would seriously consider it…! Of course, considering and doing are two completely different things, but he's changed his thoughts on the matter entirely. Instead of a 'no', now it's veering off into a 'maybe I will, but it really depends'.

 

Strange, how people change entire opinions they have, over some small feelings to someone. Just because Mint Choco is, in fact, someone worth zoning out about and thinking about hanging out with him, and occasionally, those thoughts stray into romantic territory…

 

While he can't control them, it’s not as if emotionally he would be opposed to living with MC. That’d be chill. Nor is he opposed to doing anything that his mind concocts up into his mind. All that fun stuff.

 

Alright, okay, okay. These feelings’ll probably go away in like a month, or something, right? Right! Just gotta wait it out and see. That’ll be easy.

\--

Do days off for Mint Choco technically exist? The answer was no; because his work was always brought home with him; and he was probably married to it, and you’re more than welcome to attend the wedding, assuming it doesn’t have to be rescheduled once more to fit with his work.

 

But so help him, he was attempting to at least try to have a lazy day, cherishing whatever he’d get from it so far. Even if it meant feeling the torture of everything in your mind telling you that there’s something to do, so let’s do it, but he was managing quite well. Least Rockstar was also taking the day off too; that’s a good way to take his mind off of those accursed things known as responsibilities.

 

Just going back and forth, talking about anything and anything that they think of. Of course, conversations are bound to come to a halt someday, but he’s admittedly he would like to keep it going as long as he could.

 

..Ah, well, he doesn’t know _that_ about Rockstar, does he? He could ask… but it is an extremely personal question on all fronts… Well, they’re friends, so worst comes to worst, Rockstar just won’t answer him; a fair.

 

Mint Choco: Hey Rockstar, apologies if I’m asking something too personal, but what flavor of cookie are you? I know a lot of cookies who don’t usually state their flavor outright usually aren’t too shy about it, but you’ve never said it before.

 

Five minutes pass without any response, before Mint Choco adds,

 

Mint Choco: Don’t feel pressued to tell me though; if you’d rather not say, I understand!

Mint Choco: Pressured, sorry

 

Five more minutes pass excruciatingly, and trying to write up a composition doesn’t seem to be working. Probably time to send him an apolo--

_BZZT, BZZT_

_BZZT BZZT BZZT_

_BZZT BZZT_

 

Ah, there he is.

 

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: sry was workin on somethin lol

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: tbh normally i wouldn’t tell anyone

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: but i trust ya so

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: you uh

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: know what toothpaste is?

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: that white $#!* in that tube @ the witches sink?

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: im made of that LMAOOOO

 

...Don’t people only say ‘lmao’ when they’re joking? That was too personal, then, and he’s probably joking about that. Shoot.

 

Mint Choco: Ah, ok! Sorry for asking something so personal.

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: nah you good man

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: you can be personal with me anytime mc

Mint Choco: Haha, I’ll keep that in mind!

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: ya better, mister cutiepie ;)

 

Though he’s unsure if it was the intent, flowers practically blossom in his lungs from the warmth in his chest, and a smile makes its way onto his lips from something that’s so cheesy, yet it somehow gives him so much joy. It’s not as if he has any complaints about it. He gets that way a lot with Rockstar, even from the smallest of things.

 

Mint Choco: Hahaha!

 

 _You’re cute yourself to be honest_ |

 

He stares at the message for a few moments,

Before his fingers tap at the screen, to make a few, slight adjustments.

 

Mint Choco: You’re really funny to be honest!

 

Were he to be honest with himself for more than a few moments, he knows why he feels the way he does.

(Someday, he tells himself, someday he’ll be able to tell Rockstar that. Maybe he’ll even get a yes in response.)

\--

Some music venues are small enough, that a few artists will have to squeeze into one room. Objectively, that’s an experience. Subjectively, it’s one where you get to learn more and more about music you didn't even know existed, potentially talk with artists about their techniques, all that fun stuff! It's almost always nothing but a positive experience. Wonder what artist he's been paired with at this venue!

 

“Aw, hey there show stopper!”

 

Well well, look who it is!

 

“Oh hey DJ!” Rockstar greets, in such a saccharine tone, “Never figured you were the type to show up at a rock concert!”

 

“Please Rockie,” And they wave a hand dismissively, trying to rival his one sweetness. “I know you’re such a _fan_ of showing up to my shows, I figured I might as well repay ya!”

 

You’d think with how often DJ remixed Rockstar’s songs, and how often Rockstar showed up to concerts DJ attended? It was a genuine conversation between the two, but nah. You look deeper into their conversations and they couldn’t possibly hold the slightest bit of kindness towards each other. However, there’s one fact that both are acutely aware of, and part of the reason nobody suspected a thing: good rivals try to publicly tear each others throat out. Great ones wait for the other to be scummy enough to try first.

 

“Oh thank you! Y’know ya should try to come more often, you fit in _so_ well, and you’re just absolutely _adored_ here.”

Which isn’t entirely wrong to an extent; a lot of their fans are shared because of the public thinking they’re friends. People aren’t here to hear electro jargon though, they’re here for actual music that is made with actual instruments.

 

“So long as you keep showin’ up to places. And see if you can invite Mint Choco next time, I’d love to see him!”

 

MC? Odd person to drag into their conversation… but whatever. “Oh believe me, I’ve asked him before, he did, in fact, decline. Guess he’s just not a fan of yours.”

 

With a frown, they click their tongue at that. “Aw, that’s a shame. I’m sure everyone would love to see you and your boyfriend perform.”

 

Oh, _that’s_ what this is about.

If the goal was to find nerves to pinch that don’t involve music, well done. “Look, we’re just friends. And you’ll be happy to know, we are, in fact, keeping it that way.” Way more stern that it had to be, but it gets the point across, so whatever.

 

They giggle at that, “C’mon, no need to get so defensive. But I’m sure you’ve got a cozy place in your heart for ‘im. ‘Cause I really, doubt you’d wanna defend him otherwise.”

 

“Is wanting to defend a fellow musician who is highly talented and deserves nothing but respect and admiration really lovey dovey in your world?”

 

“When you word it like that, yep.” And to think they’ve hardly dropped their happy-go-lucky tone at all…! Uncool, and then they have the audacity to continue,

 

“Hey, word of advice for ya? You should confess. A good mood is all you’ve got to lose honestly.”

 

Before Rockstar was able to snap back about that with a flurry of Please we’re gonna keep being friends and we’re both very much content with that, a few rapid knocks came from the door.

“DJ Cookie, you’re on stage.”

 

They got to their feet, “Well, I’ll wake the audience up for ya. Thank me later for it!”

 

The worst part is how he’s pretty sure they’re not being sarcastic about their advice towards him, or at least not being entirely sure. Either way, they do have a point, if he thinks about it...

But! DJ is the one who said it, so he’s not going to listen purely because of that! Take that, DJ!

 

Besides, what would they know about his feelings?

\--

If there was one thing Carol had told him, is that he should avoid looking himself up on those social media platforms. What people think of you outside of criticism inherently does not matter; most of those sites as a whole are for people to just waste their time if there’s nothing else for them to do. Besides, they can end up being pretty intimidating considering how userbases can get.

 

He doesn’t know why he chooses to ignore that this night. Mint Choco decides to blame it on curiosity, should he needs a scapegoat.

 

Admittedly, he’s not entirely familiar with social media sites, but he knows a few of them from what he sees on advertisements, what he sees advertised five ways 'til Sunday. So he just types up the first one that comes into his mind, and hits enter.

 

There’s the occasional ‘TBH I’m not Super Into Classical music but I love his stuff”, or ‘ngl it’d make sense if he’s actually a douchey meiser. a lot of those pretty boys tend to be like that’, all those just saying what they thought of him, what he was like was one thing. Can be brushed off, and he could ignore those, even if there’s an odd feeling, how they don’t even know him but people make all these assumptions about who he is.

 

If only those were the majority, instead of everyone simply claiming such things as ‘he’s mine’, ‘i will literally kms if he doesn’t marry me’, going as far as to write paragraph after paragraph of all their fantasies about him… It’s disturbing, wrong that people feel like they have this agency over him and will have him. (Some of them would even use ‘MC’ for him… he doesn’t even know them!)

 

How could people think for a moment he’s not someone on equal footing as them? What made them think, he’s not even the same as them, but some sort of… _thing_ that people could find to be theirs if they tried hard enough. You’d almost think it was something that he had control over, and chose to let....

 

Realization hits him like a punch to the face, hurting twice as much.

 

Right,

It’s honestly,

So much easier to be cared for what people think you are,

And that’s just something you have to accept.

 

Is that rage that bubbles up inside of him? Or is it emptiness that disguising itself as sadness? Either way, it’s spilling out of him, like… he can’t accept it. What about that is that so hard to accept? It’s nothing to be so Maybe there’s a reason for it all, that he just… doesn’t get it. Maybe who he actually is isn’t worthy of love. Maybe, Maybe maybe maybe maybemaybemaybemaybe....

 

...

When Mint Choco gets up the next morning, he convinces himself his outburst of feelings from last night was childish.

Because what else could he do about that?

There’s work he must do, and feelings won’t get them done.

\--

His thoughts and feelings are becoming more and more nagging as time goes on. How nice it’d be to kiss him. Even as a bare minimum as it sounded, he’d love to live with him if he could. Maybe cook him stuff from time to time... y’know, all that stuff couples would do. Even more than that at times.

 

One side of his mind tells him that it’ll pass; it’s a phase, and he’s not crushing on MC. So; if he only listens to that side, he’ll undeniably have this pass and nothing between them will be awkward! ... is what he wants to say; but how long, exactly, has he been telling himself that? His feelings haven’t changed or, anything of the sort really. Actually, they've probably gotten worse when he thinks of it.

 

Time calls for outside assistance with this-- he opens up his search engine.

 

_Is it normal to want to kiss your friend_

 

He taps on the first result he sees.

 

Question: _I want to kiss my friend… is that normal?_

 

Best Answer: _I think it depends more on why you want to kiss them. Peck on the cheek because that’s what you do? That’s chill, lol, but if you want to kiss them on the lips because they’re one of the greatest people you’ve ever met? You’ve def. Got a crush._

 

Alright, so it’s just a friendship thing! Because really, who could resist wanting to kiss Mint Choco? He’s talented, he’s handsome, and he’s so nice and he’s got th...

...

Yeah he uh.

He probably need a second opinion from a friend on this.

 

The biggest problem of being famous is that you can hardly do anything without getting hounded; your friends can’t really help you either, or you risk fueling that giant rumor mill that Rockstar, for one, would prefer not to add to. Sure, there’s Carol, but he’d rather not get teased about this ordeal by her. Better to be safe than sorry in the end.

 

Does he even have anyone that can help him that isn’t a music-- Ah, right! Kiwi Biker Cookie! The two only talked here and there now and then, but they grew up together, and didn’t particularly fall out of touch sense then. Besides; Kiwi is dating someone, to Rockstar’s knowledge! Bingo, he opens up the messaging app. Rockstar, you’re a crazy, crazy genius you.

 

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: random but u up

 

A few minutes pass, before,

 

BikerBabe: Yeah, was gonna konk out soon tho

BikerBabe: Need smthn

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: i need love advice

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: and ik u know those ropes better than i do

BikerBabe: K, hit me

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: alright so like

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: theres this guy i know and i feel weird about him like i wanna kiss him a lot and even w/o that id be really happy if we lived together and i want to tell him everything i think is onderful about him all the time and i always feel happier whenever i talk to him

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: is that normal friendship stuff or

BikerBabe: I

BikerBabe: .

BikerBabe: you fkin serious

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: ya

 

The world’s slowest minute passes with no response from him, until;

 

BikerBabe: Rockstar.

BikerBabe: None of that is normal friendship stfuf

BikerBabe: Whoever this guy is you uh

BikerBabe: kinda have the worlds biggest crush on

BikerBabe: Imma sleep now but good luck with him, lmk if you need advice

 

He just stares at the messages for some time, mentally battling if he should look into it more, maybe contact someone else about it regardless, until realizing that’s hardly worth the effort. He just needs to accept that he has a crush on Mint Choco Cookie. He has a crush on the wonderful, kind, talented, and extraordinary Mint Choco.

 

One that he is completely and utterly unable to do anything about, because his sister once told him how strict they are; they can’t even imply they’ve got a romantic relationship of the sort without risking job loss. Granted, she’s not too interested in that sort of thing, but Mint Choco on the other hand? While it’s nice to imagine that he feels the same, if he did, then he’d loose his job.

 

C’mon, he’s the one and only Rockstar Cookie! He’ll think of something he can do to express his feelings...

\--

The people who hate their works the most are the very people who create them; but sometimes, they’re able to create something so spectacular, even they would happily admit that they enjoy what they’ve done. It’s especially rewarding when your name is Mint Choco, and you didn’t think your experimenting would pay off.

 

Turns out, it’s absolutely glorious; utterly freeing from what he’s produced for the most part. Echo, he’s called his piece, and it is so different, and rather risky considering how long he spent on it, but so rewarding. And if he likes it? Then the public is bound to enjoy it so much more. He’ll just set that to be released with his album.

 

“Before you go MC, do you think you could write another song for Lemongrass? I’d like to replace that with Echo.”

 

...Replace it?

“Salmon, what is there to gain by telling me to scrap a song I’ve already finished? Would it not be more beneficial for us both to simply sell it?” Mint Choco asked, and he tries his darndest to avoid raising his pitch.

 

“Mint Choco doesn't make melancholic, overbearing songs,” Salmon says to him, far too casually, “That’s not the sort of thing people want of you, and it’s not the sort of thing you should be.” Then, they have the audacity to add under their breath, “Doesn’t even fit with the album.”

 

So you, who is only a footnote in the public at best can be what you want, but your most beloved musician can’t.

 

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t seek to improve my skills?” Mint Choco asked.

 

They just shrug, “Look; release it on your own time if it bugs you that much. But we have an image of you we push that people love, we can’t go about sullying it. Worst comes to worst, we’ll release the album as is.”

 

Mint Choco does mentally thank one thousand times over whatever deity allowed his reply to not be met with verbal daggers to his throat. At least he had that.

 

“...I understand.” Truthfully, that only applies to the last part, but it’s the most true thing he could say.

 

The walk home that hounds him with all those flashes feels so much more grating than it normally feels. Like his violin was off tune all day, or someone on the streets tried to yank him into the crowd, or he was almost too groggy when waking up.

 

Doesn’t even feel good to finally lay down in his bed.

 

Because one thing keeps running through Mint Choco’s mind, everything that people who thought they knew him said about him, everything that had been told of him to do, not because he wanted to, but to cater to people who want to delude themselves into thinking they’re his,

and it’s amazing that he keeps all that anger that builds up inside of him.

 

(You ignore bad things, they only get worse.)

 

Finally,

 

Mint Choco: Carol, you wouldn’t happen to know when Salmon tends to be free, would you?

melodicwinter: Usually you can catch them around 1 - 3 in their office, and anytime before the place closes.

melodicwinter: Why, something up? :o

Mint Choco: Just want to talk with them about something.

melodicwinter: Ah, ok! Good luck with it! ^_^

\--

Admittedly, writing lyrics was far from Rockstar’s forte. Usually, what ends up happening is he changes them in accordance from those around him; going as far as to rewrite half of the song in the process. And, typically? That doesn’t bother him; the end product is what matters more than anything. And if others can make it sound better, so be it.

 

Nope. Not this time. Nah, see, this is a piece of art where he wants to do as much of it by himself as possible. Picky, sure, but otherwise, he pretty much ruins the whole point of the piece. It’s for someone in particular, so his heart is going into every single note.

 

...but it still should, ideally, sound good, so he’s not above asking a certain someone for some advice here and there with it.

 

melodicwinter: Don’t take this the wrong way Rockstar but

melodicwiinter: These lyrics are corny. xD

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: sis your not helping

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: this is my first time writing a love song

melodicwinter: I didn’t say it was horrible lol.

melodicwinter: Who is it for btw? :o

 

Crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap was it really that obvious it was for someone? Why, oh why must she know him well enough to know when he’s fallen for someone?

 

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: uhhh

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: secret ;)))))

melodicwinter: If you tell me I could maybe give advice? Just so they might realize it’s them.

melodicwinter: And you know I won’t tell! ^^

 

...Alright fair. What are you so worried about, c’mon, it’s Carol! She only cares for problems when she’s able to help  people through them. There’s a reason why Rockstar can trust her, despite being the one cookie alive who could share enough embarrassing stories to follow him into his next life; because she gets it.

 

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: ok so

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: ik clairvoyic gets super *#!^ about their idols being anything but perfect

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: but it’s mc

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: and id like to avoid. potentially $(*&ing up his image by telling him

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: so putting out a single about my feelings is the next best thing tbh

melodicwinter: Ohh, gotcha!

melodicwinter: That’s actually a really good idea.

melodicwinter: Alright, lemme shoot some pointers your way.

melodicwinter: It’ll be long, so hang on. ^^;

\--

First time he bothered to face Salmon Cookie, he ended up gaining a job. A job that gave spread his work so far that… frankly, it’s now at a scope that he isn’t sure he was intended to comprehend, and frankly, it’s best he doesn’t try to. Worst that’ll possibly happen, is the answer is no, and he goes on with his life.

 

“Are you currently free Salmon?” Mint Choco asks, opening the door a crack.

 

“Free as I’ll ever be. Did you need something?” They ask from behind their computer, striking keys with speed and precision.

 

“I was hoping we could…” Deep breath for good luck, ”Talk, about something in private.”

 

“Then come on in, shut the door behind you and sit down.” They say.

 

In that order, he complies.

 

“I have a small request,” Mint Choco begins, “Would it be possible for you to… be a bit more careful about the image of me you spread?”

 

“...If that bothers you then why don’t you just quit?” Salmon asks, not even bothering to look at him. Clacking away at the keyboard in front of them, much more important. Same old Salmon; hardly a care in the world for those around them.

 

“Because I love my job. What kind of question is that?”

 

“A genuine one; you’re telling me you’ve got a problem with the fact you’re famous, and despite helping you become famous in the first place, this place shouldn’t be allowed to thank itself by selling your signature on things.”

 

“Salmon, I’m not saying you can’t sell merchandise with my face or signature on it,” Slowly, his pitch is raised a bit. “All I’m asking is for you to at least just… be respectful of who I am as a musician, and what I do.”

 

The typing stops.

“Say that again?”

 

...Is this a joke?

“I just want anything using my image as a person to be respectful to who I am.”

 

Apparently, it is a joke, as Salmon starts chuckling to themselves about it.

 

“Alright, Mint Choco, look,” They exhale, and swivel their chair towards him. “I really, really don’t think you understand what you’re saying by asking that of me. There’s a lot I can do for you. Hell, you could ask me for the freaking moon, and I could… potentially get some of that for you. But that, that is one thing I cannot do.”

 

“...And might I ask, why, exactly, that isn’t something you can do for me?” Mint Choco tries to keep the vitriol in his throat from rising and spilling from his mouth like acid. Tries to keep himself from looking as cross as he can, even if he’s fully aware of how badly it’s failing.

 

“That’s really simple,” Their fingers lace together for their head to rest upon, “That’s not what people want from you. You’re right on one hand; we are pushing an image of you that’s essentially fake, and maybe that’s wrong. Maybe this whole damn place is wrong for doing that, sure, but it’s one that the public can really feel as if they know you, like you’re a friend of theirs. That’s just how people are; you’ll be loved more for what people think you are, not who you actually are.”

 

They say that as if he had a chance to show the world who he actually was.

 

“If I’m understanding this correctly,” Mint Choco’s voice rises a bit more. “You’re saying that I shouldn’t be given any sort of decency, because that’s not something you can make money from?”

 

“I do think that’s oversimplifying it a tad too much, but if that’s how you see it, yeah.” Salmon states plainly, but more annoyed than before. Plucked a nerve, hasn’t he?

 

“Salmon, I fail to see how I’m oversimplifying any of this; you control the most minute details of my works, telling me what it should and should not sound like. Worse yet, you control the aspects of my life, as if I must be reminded of how I am watched by everyone beyond hope! And for reasons I find serves little to no purpose!” He’s completely given up trying to control his anger, his volume, or attempting to sound level headed.

 

“C’mon, don’t say that like the minute details of your work can’t be changed. You know damn well that’s false. It’s those little things about you that you can shine through.”

 

“And yet you forget that details are scraps in the end!” He finally rises from the chair he’d been sitting in the whole time. “All I have to work with are scraps in the face of your dehumanizing methods, like that’s all I deserve!”

 

“‘Dehumanizing’, Oh please you hardly know what that means,” They practically snarl, “This whole damn agency could be so much worse than what we have you do now. I can list all sorts of horrible things I’ve seen others ones do.”

 

“Yes, because I should be grateful for the fact you still rob me of what little freedom I have in my life, that’s your point, no?!” Already, he’s opening the door, before stopping to hear Salmon speak up one more time,

 

“If that’s how you feel like spinning it, yeah, I’m the worst thing in the world!” Their volume finally rivaled Mint Choco’s, finally standing up, “And If it bothers you so much, leave! Considering what we’ve has done for your reputation, you probably hardly need this place anymore! We’ve had fame before you joined us, and we’ll have fame after you’re gone!”

 

“Then you can consider this my resignation, because I can’t compose works under this, this _lie_ you push of me for your fame!”

 

Thus the door is slammed shut behind him.

\--

His recording crew signals him to stop.

It’s more of an instinct than anything, the way Rockstar jumps off his stool, and heads into the booth.

 

“That sound ok?” He asks.

 

“Getting there; the transition from the midpoint to the chorus is still a tad sloppy.” Admittedly, this time he kind of sort of didn’t really put effort into it at all. “We want you to take a break for now though; Carol Cookie is in the lounge, says she’s got something urgent she has to talk with you about.”

 

He doesn’t waste any time quickly pacing himself into the lounge. Carol and urgent mix akin to oil and water, so if there’s a flag of another color up in the air, it’s drowned out by the red ones.

 

“Carol, what’s up?” He tries to keep himself at least a little relaxed where she can’t.

 

“Rockstar, have you heard from Mint Choco lately?” She asks, and already the worry in her voice is _wrong._ That’s not even getting to all her usual pleasantries she’s just skipped over because of the time they’d waste.

 

“Not since last week. Somethin’ happen?” Rockstar asks.

 

“That’s the thing, nobody has seen him for a week. He had a really bad fight with Salmon-- one of our producers-- and sense then we haven’t seen him.” She explains. “They figured that he’d be back by tomorrow, or the day after that if he was serious, but… even without that, he hasn’t answered his phone, calls… anything!”

 

Unless he’s constantly talking with someone, MC is the type to apologize for not responding quick enough.

 

“...Do you know what they fought over?”

 

She shakes her head. “All I heard when heading in was Mint Choco essentially saying something like, “I’m tired of all this fame! I can’t compose anymore!”, We figured he might’ve said something to you, even just be with you, considering how close you two are.” Carol explains, and she’s not wrong at all.

 

They're close, but not close enough to know if he's gone somewhere.

 

“...If I see him around, I’ll tell ya as soon as I can.”

 

His disappearance was made public that night, and just like that, the whole world was searching all over for him; would he be here? Would be he there? If you know anything about where he even could be, just say so! Anything works, even if you’re not entirely sure if you saw him.

 

You’d almost think he was a ghost; and everyone was just desperate to prove he was a concept that existed.

 

Instead of doing anything productive, Rockstar spent most of the night just waiting for Mint Choco to text him back, almost obsessively staring at his screen before he passed out from exhaustion.

Where are you, MC...?

\--

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: hey where you at dude? haven’t seen you for awhile, you sick or smnth?

-Monday, two weeks ago-

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: mc if you see this pls call me

-Thursday, last week-

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: or text me if that’s easier

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: or mail me a letter

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: or anything

-Today-

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: idc how you do it tbh

0LDSKHOOLROCKA: just wanna know you’re ok

\--

 

The only people who were banned from Sparkling’s was anyone who was the complete scum of the world, the parts of the barrel society was ever so antsy to remove and replace so it’s own rot didn’t poison the rest of it. Then again, that was a level of notoriety you actively had to gun for, and at that point, visiting a city was a waste of your time.

 

Depending on his mood, sea scoundrels and pomegranate puppets were tentatively allowed in, which didn’t seem to apply to tonight from what Rockstar could glean.

 

Not that he cared, when he just wanted to wash down his feelings, because even after a month of Mint Choco’s disappearance he still feels as if there’s some blame on him. Maybe if you just asked him if he was ok the week before he went missing, maybe if this, maybe if that. Maybe, maybe maybe.

 

“What can I get you tonight?” Sparkling chimes in as Rockstar takes a seat at the bar. “Mister, ehm...”

“Ah, Vanilla Bean Cookie.” Rockstar lies. Sure; what happens in Sparkling’s stays in Sparkling’s, so maybe applying a scar with makeup is, in fact, overkill, but better safe than sorry. “And just some hard cider works.”

 

To think, he’d begun crafting a love song for him, only for MC to drop off the face of the world, and likely never be seen again.

He’d find it funny if it didn’t hurt so much.

 

“Do you plan to stay for the 10:15 performance?” Sparkling asks, while pouring his drink.

“Uhh, what kinda performance is it?”

“A music performance; A musician insisted I hire him a couple of weeks ago. Oh, are his skills are extraordinary~!” His voice practically bubbled with happiness. “Odd fellow though; doesn’t want me to pay him a dime, just let him live here.”

 

Well, he’s here, so no reason to not watch it.

 

The time arrives, and the musician steps onto the stage.

 

Similar to Mint Choco, but he doesn’t dress like that. Too many dark clothes to be him, none of that dark teal Mint Choco loves, with the only white being from his cape, and while he’s got the similar tones in the hair, the style is far from how MC would style his. Mint Choco also doesn’t wear a mask over the left half of his face either. Even minor things, such as not having the potent odor of mint that he usually does, and his violin being your average violin add onto it.

 

It doesn’t stop Rockstar from hoping, though.

 

They then begin to play their song. Slow, melancholic, and subdued, far from Mint Choco’s typical upbeat, optimistic tones he practically embraced, and squeezed into each and every one of his songs. Even in some of his songs that were like this song-- even they they'd have their happy moments, no matter how brief. He’d told Rockstar something once; ‘The world is already filled with bad things; to what purpose does it serve to create music that needlessly reminds us of that, even in tone?’ Ah, like that, that sort of feeling he'd have in his s--

 

Then he realizes,

The key had changed from C Minor to G Major, so subtly that he almost hadn’t caught it.

Rockstar was a fan of music before he was a musician himself.

So he can safely say there’s only one cookie who does that technique in his songs.

 

“‘Cuze me, barkeep?”

Sparkling glaces up at him, while cleaning out a glass.

“After the show, would it be chill to visit your musician backstage for a bit?”

\---

 

“Menta Sokola, you have a visitor~!” Sparkling announces, as he opens the door to his private quarters. “He said he shouldn’t be here here for more than twenty minutes, so I’ll be sure he’s out of your hair by then~.” The door is shut, with whoever decided to come badger him for a bit.

 

Who he did not expect to see, when turning around, was the very cookie who inadvertently launched his life into fame and fortune, just without the usual mask (And wow, that scar looks nasty). ‘Menta Sokola’ glances at the clock; 10:42. Just needs to put up with him until 11:02, and then he’ll be free.

 

“Long time no see.” He greets.

 

“...I fear you’re mistaking me for someone else.” ‘Menta Sokola’ states.

 

“I could be,” He gives a casual shrug and leans against the wall. “But I also could have found the great Mint Choco after he’s been missing for over a month. ‘Specially considering how your playing styles are almost identical.”

 

“Inspiration is common amongst artists you know,” ‘Menta Sokola’ points out, “Is it not common for us to grow from each others skills, and spread everyone’s influence?”

 

The ‘visitor’, if you’d consider him that, gave a hum. “True that, but Sparkling mentioned you got hired a few weeks ago. I’ll hear out any evidence that’ll prove me wrong if ya got it.”

 

Of course he did.

It’s 10:44, and he’s already been cornered.

 

“Then am I correct to assume you’re here to drag me back to my usual life?” Mint Choco asks tentatively.

 

He gives a smile; one with an unusual warmth.“You couldn’t be further from the truth, MC,” (What makes you think you have the familiarity to call him that?) ”I really just wanted to know if you were okay. Catch up with you if that’s chill. No offense taken if you’d rather not though.”

 

“It’s quiet a long story.” Mint Choco warns. If he’s going to catch up with him, then he’s going to explain everything from the beginning to how he got, well, here now.

 

“I’ve got time.” He assures.

 

There’s hardly anyone else around who would be able to understand this if he vented it all out to them; it’d be utterly preposterous to turn down the one fellow in the world who would listen to him.

 

“Well, sir, I know it never was your intent to throw my life into a confusing mess, that I’m not entirely sure where I would begin fixing, assuming I can of course, but essentially, that’s what happened between the time you’ve guided me off the street to now,” Mint Choco begins.

 

‘The first few months of my work? Oh, they were fantastic; I was allowed to be who I was, even if there were some kinks in the road here or there about my music. Not horrible ones, mind you, just things I could improve upon, genuine criticism. I’m unsure where, exactly, things began to go south, but it was all gradual.”

 

“First, they told me to avoid any romantic relationships, even so much as hinting at them. Of course, I found that to be a tiny bit understandable, and I hadn’t really been considering them at the time, but more and more things just… built up. Oh, Mint Choco we’ll have to make you make an entire song instead of the work you enjoyed, because all your work needs to sound like this. We’re going to control an entire interview because you have to act like this, and that. And what’s worse? That’s merely the tip of the iceberg,” He feels his voice rise.

 

“All that… that _effort_ ! Just so I could be seen as this, this… _thing_ that I could be marketed as for everyone to love me, think I’m _theirs_ for what I’m not. That was what I was forced to be seen as by my record label-- not because it was what I wanted, but because it was a profitable image for them, barring any say I had in all of it.” He feels the force in his voice petering out.

 

“Effectively, I couldn’t take it anymore so I just… quit. And as of now my only plans are to hide until I’ve faded from the public’s mind, even if the truth about my identity goes to the grave, because I’ve frankly had enough of about… well, all of it, truthfully.”

 

Mint Choco exhales a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding in, feeling a weight lifted off of his chest that’d been crushing him down for lord knows how long.

10:52.

 

Then he looks to his companion, who has become completely and utterly speechless, with the look in his eyes looking as if someone close to him had just been killed before his very eyes. Repeatedly, his mouth opened for a few moments, before promptly shutting it; trying to find the proper words, but failing every time. Finally,

 

“Y’know I… I know this probably means jack now, and it can’t fix anything, but I’m… I’m, so sorry.”

 

“It’s not your fault.” Mint Choco says quietly.

He didn’t know if he was saying that because he genuinely thought so, or he just wanted to convince himself.

Acutely, is his visitor ever aware of how empty that statement is, nor does he believe that four words could simply make him be seen as an equal again.

 

“You just… you didn’t deserve to be kept out on the streets.” His visitor tries to explain, “Just figured you deserved attention from people for your talents instead of just being some… _thing_ that provides streetside attraction.”

 

“Yet, because of that, now Mint Choco will only be seen as a thing, even after he’s long gone.” And he chuckles, but there’s hardly any humor in his voice. “Strange how that works, isn’t it?”

 

Silently, they both agreed they’d finished their business here; nothing else for them to discuss. If they were here for any sort of jovial talks, they’d have gotten drinks already and laughed over them.

And thus, the visitor walks to the door; to excuse himself from his quarters.

 

10:55

 

“Wait.”

The cookie freezes.

“...May I at least have your name before you leave?”

He stays silent for a moment, before turning to Mint Choco, taking his hand from the doorknob.

 

“You, technically already know it. Think it’s better if I just show ya.”

Now how one would go about showing someone their name?

 

The cookie proceeds to untie his ponytail once removing his hat and then,

wipes the... make up…

  off…

his...

 

“Rockstar?”

“Yep,” He gives a melancholic smile, probably out of reflex, and doesn’t bother with that signature snap of confidence from fingers. “The one and only.”

 

Oh.

How...

How on earth did he not put that together sooner?

 

Then, two facts consecutively hit him:

 

One: The biggest influence of not just in his music, but his life found him, and believed that his talents deserved to be shared with the world because of how wonderful he was. The biggest influence in his life believed it deserved to be better, and did what he could to do just that.

 

Two: He had just chewed out said influence for doing that.

 

One of the few people who he know loved him for being Mint Choco, instead of the concept of who he was had just.

And Rockstar was easily going to hate him and leave him, and he reserves every right to. And all he could do is stand here and sob about it.

 

Yet, Rockstar stays, he wraps his arms around Mint Choco; and in turn, he reciprocates; holding him like a lifeline.

 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Rockstar tells him quietly, warmly, running his hand slowly up and down along his back.

Even if nothing truly is okay, Rockstar telling him it will be is somehow all the assurance he needs to believe so.

 

Once he's finally able to relax, Mint Choco admits, “Well I… I’m not entirely sure what to do.”

 

“You want to keep making your music, and playing tunes, just without any of that fame nonsense getting in your way, yeah?” Rockstar asks, while reapplying what he could of his disguise.

 

“Of course I do.” What kind of question is that?

 

11:00

 

“...Well, if you’re cool with keeping your job here, I think I gotta crazy solution.”

\--

It couldn’t have been more apparent to Rockstar that despite his wealth, Mint Choco never had lived somewhere particularly fancy, considering just how impressed he was from looking around Rockstar’s place. Which; by itself, wasn’t something much in Rockstar’s eyes; was mostly just nice things around his house. But still; he could even if he never said anything.

 

He’d still keep his main job to working at Sparkling’s during the nights, even if it took a little bit of Rockstar magic to convince Sparkling and MC of that, but it was pleasant enough, and switching over to living with Rockstar? He didn't seem to have any opposition to it. "You're free to look around at whatever you please!" Rockstar told him, and he is living here now, so there's no reason for him to be so modest, is there!

 

“...Do you happen to be composing a love song?” Mint Choco asks, curiously flipping through some compositions notes and lyrics that caught his eye.

 

Ah yes. The one place he figured Mint Choco wouldn’t check, he did, in fact, check. Embarrassing, sure, and he won’t pretend his face doesn’t have that splash of red on it, but he seems… oblivious to who it’s about; so, this is fine. It’s fine. He’s fine. Mint Choco’s fine as long as he just doesn’t ask if it’s about anyone! That’s easy.

 

“I… am, in fact. Gotta expand your horizons as an artist, y’know; Can’t get stuck doing the same stuff over and over.” Rockstar states, almost a bit too nervously.

 

“Fair point with that. I must say, the lyrics are quite something. Still has your usual Rockstar charm.” Mint Choco says, smiling hardly suspecting a thing in the world. Hah-- Two points for Rockstar baby!

 

“Admittedly, it needs a bit more to it than just my guitar,” He says, walking over to the sheets of his music, “If you’re interested in helping out.”

 

MC chuckles, “Truthfully, I doubt our instruments would mesh together that well for something like this.”

 

“Hey, C Minor and G Major aren’t two keys that go together, but if you can make that work, we could make this work out. ‘Sides, can’t say it won’t work if you haven’t tried it.” Rockstar pointed out, before taking his work out of Mint Choco’s hands and.

 

Turns out, that seemed to have convinced him, or he must have figured there was nothing to lose at that, because come the next time Rockstar went to practice it, Mint Choco ended up asking him if he could join in. First few times they’d tried, it, well, had less than stellar results, but that’s why Rockstar just kept telling him to keep trying; they’d find something that’d work.

 

After a good dozen tries, Mint Choco had developed some basics for it that worked, and eventually, they’d finally-- finally gotten a lovely duet from their two instruments! And to think that Mint Choco was saying it wouldn’t happen.

 

Come a few days after that, Rockstar thrusts a paper into MC’s face when he catches him around.

 

“Ferrior Venue now looking for musicians for concert...” Mint Choco mutters, scanning over the poster he’d been given.

 

“It’s nothing too fancy; they’re just celebrating the completion of the venue; more opted for plays and whatnot though. Still; they’re asking for some artists to play a few songs or whatever, and the pay seems pretty nice. You wanna debut Perfect here?” Rockstar asks.

 

“That’s... four weeks from now, with the most generous estimate of time. You think we’ll be able to get this all memorized by then?” Mint Choco asks tentatively. The concern is valid, but...

 

Rockstar just shrugs. “Worst comes to worst, I’ll just play a different song and you’ll be my cheerleader on the sidelines. Unless you’ve got a problem with that somehow.”

 

MC gives a smile, adorned with one of his moments of competition flaring through his eyes. “There’s only an issue if there’s no effort on my end.”

 

Much more easier said than done, of course, when one of them was gone during the day, and the other would be gone that night, but it wouldn’t stop them from putting the effort needed in. Sure, maybe there were days where they only had one or two sessions to practice with and learn from, sure, but they’d keep trying no matter what.

 

“A quick question for you, Rockstar.” MC says, getting out his violin before one session.

 

“Shoot.”

 

“I know all of your works do tend to have a reason behind them; In fact, I believe you said that if the work doesn’t reflect the author's feelings on something, anything, art is meaningless, no? Might I ask what you have in mind with this piece? Aside from experimenting.” MC asks, tuning up his violin before they practice again.

 

...Oh what the hell; the worst case scenario happened already, and that was resolved pretty alright, wasn’t it? Even if not solved by in large. Now the worst that could happen is he gets rejected; there’s a month or so of awkwardness between the two, and then they’ll move on with their lives.

 

“I’ll uh. Tell you sometime after we perform it; deal?” Rockstar answers nervously. Because the best questions are answered with another question.

 

He slides his bow upon the strings, finally hitting the tune he wants to hear, “A deal it is, then.”

 

And thus, the day of their performance arrives.

 

Of course there were a few raised eyebrows at Rockstar saying he was going to debut a new song at a concert when asked what song he would be playing, but ultimately, so long as it fits with the concert’s theme (Which they all tentatively trusted), they said, then he’d be fine to do what he’d like.

 

Because despite everything? They had managed to make it all work, and they were fairly confident with their performing abilities with it all. Now, they’re doubling checking their double checks-- is everything tuned ok? How are we going to look in the light? In the small case we do mess up here or here, what are we going to do again?

  
“And hey, you sure you want to dress like that?” Rockstar asks one more time, giving him a glance over. It’s not the exact image of MC the public assumed they knew, but he looked familiar enough; the whole crowd would be able to put the pieces together. It’s not as if their audience was small either, so if there was any rumor of rumors, they’d spread faster than either could control.

 

“Please, of course I’m sure.” MC assures him.

The smirk he gets oh so clearly reads _Oh I know exactly what I’m doing_.

 

A hand raps upon the door from outside.

“Rockstar, you’re up next.”

 

“Alright then;”

He swings his guitar over his body, and looks to MC.

“Let’s rock!”

\--

Though it was late enough in the day to be leaning into the afternoon, the exhaustion of last night still persisted into the next day. It's just par for Rockstar to always take up concerts days before one of his few days off to deal with that as best as he could. Still; he was tapping his fingers upon the end table on his side of the couch; attempting to work out some kind of tune. Just in the comfort of his own place.

 

Not that Mint Choco wouldn’t have his own problems to deal with, but they’ll be dealt with at a later date in their own time-- the fanciest term for tomorrow yet. For now, he’s just happy to relax.

Ah, right, he didn’t ask _that_ last night, did he?

 

“Hey Rockstar?”

 

“Mmyeah?” He asks, not looking up.

 

“You remember how you said you’d tell me what other purpose ‘Perfect’ had?”

 

That gets Rockstar to look up.

There’s some silence, and newfound shade of pink on Rockstar’s face, before he turns himself to give him a response,

“I do. Just, uh, promise me you won’t laugh, deal?”

 

“Of course I won’t.” Mint Choco assures; What on earth about it could possibly be so embarrassing?

 

Rockstar’s, hands brought together with a clap,

“Oh boy, ok, so...”

He takes a deep breath, taking his time to inhale and exhale.

“Basically I uh, started it a bit before you went missing. And you’re more than well aware of how strict your label was, yeah? But, all I really knew about was your label being pretty strict with their idols gettin’ all lovey-dovey with someone else.”

 

If he wasn’t blushing before, then the red dye had finally spread enough at that point to stain his whole face.

 

“Long story short, I uh. Had you in mind with it, basically.”

 

…

The first love song Rockstar ever wrote,

And it was with him in mind?

He can feel his face heat up at that.

 

“I actually considered confessing for some time instead,” Rockstar continues “When it actually hit me that wanting to kiss someone isn’t exactly a friendship thing, more of a--”

 

“Apologies for interrupting, but did you _seriously_ think those are friends things?” Mint Choco tries to at least contain his laughter in his throat, mostly failing at that. Well, at least he can blame the flush in his face on that.

 

“Yes, MC, I did!” Rockstar exclaimed, before running his hands over his face. “I’m an idiot, and I hope I can be your idiot,” He removes his hands from his face, to look at Mint Choco as his laughter dies down, “‘Cause the more I think of you, the more in love I fall with you.”

 

“And you… mean that, yes?”

For a moment, he wants to apologize for saying that, that only serves as a fine way to confuse others now doesn’t it.

But Rockstar understands, of course he does.

 

“‘Course I do. I adore everything about you; you’re fun to talk to, passionate about what you do, always wanting to improve yourself, you’ve got the patience even deities would envy. I can go on if you’d like me to take this into next day. But, bottom line is, if you feel the same way, I’d love to be your boyfriend.”

 

“Then I will have you know,” Mint Choco says, sitting upright as best as he could, “I do, in fact, feel the same way. And I would be honored to be your boyfriend as well.”

 

Mint Choco has been to many places in the world, yet nothing he’s seen in it could or would ever be as sweet as the smile that lights up on Rockstar’s face at his answer.

 

Of course Rockstar goes in for a kiss, and Mint Choco is happy to comply; pressing their lips together, as Mint Choco’s hands run through Rockstar’s hair momentarily. Soft, even with a few tangles and knots here and there.

 

Oh, he wasn’t expecting… _that_.

And clearly, his surprise is plastered upon his face once they pull away, because Rockstar asks him before saying anything else,

“I making you uncomfy or anything?”

 

“No no, you’re not, I just…”

 

He tries to think of an eloquent way to word himself, but honesty seems to be the most refined way of words at the moment.

 

“I had… always assumed you were joking about being made from toothpaste.”

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, Changing your Key in Music Isn't that hard, but I'm not a musician so that's what I went with. Pls pretend MC's music powers OP.
> 
> Along with not being A Musician, I don't know how Signing up for Record Labels work, but I didn't feel like researching it so I just mixed with how auditioning for plays and job Interviews go. Pls pretend that's How It Works in the Cookie World.
> 
> You know how Millenial Tree and Wind Archer aren't technically related but It's cute to say they are? Yeah. That's me with Rockie and Carol.
> 
> TY for reading, have a mem.  
> 


End file.
